"Mireya's Mom"

by Jeph Johnson


She was
once younger,
and not so smart,
before your arrival...
She felt your heart
beating while fighting
for her own survival.
She made big
mistakes with fate
and poor unfair decisions.
It's almost more
than she can take
when she dreams
what might have been.
But hope says love
prevails through the pain
that begs your forgiveness
again and again
and though Mommy's
not always there
in the traditional sense
her love is:
and intense...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

for Sharon, circa 1999 

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God gave me a sister

her love is so true

she writes with passion

soul of a poet comes through

words captured on paper

oh what tears they can bring

her boys, my nephews

they make her complete

she was put on this earth

to be a mother and wife

she works hard at all she does

giving a hundred and fifty percent

handles what ever life has to offer

taking it all in stride

never complaining that it's too tough

she is a wonder woman

I use to think that she hated me

but now I see she really cares

she always has a kind word for me

I try to help her though miles away

I send her loving thoughts and prayers

each and every single day

I love her with all I am

she gives me her smile when I need one

her heart is made of God's gold

nothing ever seems to get her down

she has alot going on in her life right now

but she still seems to have time to wish me well

Meg this is for you sis

it might have seemed to take a while

but we are for sure family

I look at you not as a sis in law

but as a sister given to me in love

my brother pick the prize when he picked you

may you have all that you could ever want or need

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I have the greatest sister in law that anyone could ever ask for....

I love ya Meg.... and as you have told me ... I am only a click away....

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For you

old poems

For you I lay my life down for the taking,

For you I would do anything for,

For you are my love

My hope, my god,

For you are my life,

I give you my life to create anthor

For we shall create not only a Life but are love in a human body.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this poem thinking of my life with Nicole.

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My Brother Is Leaving

I will never forget you

That bond we shared

When we were scared

We would be there for each other

When we needed to cry we had each other

Now our shoulders bare the pain and sorrow we had at one time

I will never forget the time we cried on each other’s shoulder

But now I’m crying too

B/c I think I might lose you

But now I will understand that you will never be far apart

B/c you are in my heart

I feel like I’m loosing something

What I’m loosing is tears

The tears that are running down my face

B/c now you are leaving to college

But I feel like you are leaving me

But now I’m gaining a brother that is now becoming a man

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is to my wonderful brother who I will miss very much this next year because he will not be in the same school, but I have to go on, thanks Josh for everything!!

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My Brother (is the best)!!

Most siblings can't wait for there other sibling to leave, but for me, that's going to be the hardest part about live!  My brother is the best thing that has happened to me, of coarse there is God!  But I never would have thought to have a brother help me when I needed it, and love me.  I just wish there were a way that I could just tell him how much I feel.  I just hope this story or letter helps.

My brother Josh wouldn't hurt a flea, maybe a flea, but not a human.  He is the most caring person on this earth, and the coolest.  You would think I can't wait for him to leave, but actually I wish he would stay.  A lot of people think I'm different or strange just because Josh and I are so close.  Most siblings fight a lot, but he and I we are different!  

We love each other, but sometimes you wouldn't think we do.  There have been times that we have fought.  We aren't prefect, and no body is, so what makes us different.  I wish I had a story to talk about, but I don't.  I mean I have great stuff that my brother and I have gone through.

There is one reason that I'm so proud or happy that Josh is my brother.  He is different, of coarse, like everyone else, but also, different for being a man.  He cries, but most guys say no way I would never do that.  But he doesn't care because he knows deep down inside everyone does cries.  I will never forget when he and I were crying and crying.  There was something bad that happened, and we cried together and he said he was sorry that me shirt was wet, but did I care.  Not at all, I just was glad that I could have a brother that would cry and not hold in their true emotions.  

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is dedicated to my brother, I love him dearly and you can tell by the story or letter!!

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They all say "there there"

but we know that it's not alright

they say "don't worry"

but we can not

they don't understand our pain

they don't understand our sorrow

but the do give us love

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Hope for Dunblane

Hope for Dunblane  



In evergreen memory of our beloved 
children of Dunblane Primary School,

Scotland: United Kingdom! 



Ugonna Wachuku 


(c) March 1996   













Part One:   




Victoria:  at dawn   


Emma:  innocent face   




Melissa:  bells toll   


Charlotte:  harmless smiles




Kevin:  You walked our streets   


Ross:  to the brilliant gardens




David:  tell it on the mountain?   


Mhairi:  evening walk without you


Part Two:  




Brett:  sweet, little love   


Abigail:  on the green earth




Emily:  in search of you   


Sophie:   I remember you




John:  your soiled napkin   


Joanna:  in my tears




Hannah:  child of peaceful Dunblane  

Megan:  my memories of you  


Part Three:


Smiles and hope


What monstrous hatred?




The Author





In unfailing memory of

our 16, 5 years old kids

murdered by Thomas Hamilton

at Dunblane Primary School

Scotland on wednesday 13

March, 1996;


an eternal tribute to their

noble teacher who was shot

defending the children;

a message of hope and love

to mourning parents and families;


a loving homage of caring

love to the 12 kids and 2

teachers wounded;

to all humankind who have

learnt from, and dared to

be wounded by the bloody

tears of Dunblane!!!









"Blessed are they that mourn;

for they shall be comforted."


~Mattthew 5: 4


"Blessed be God, even the Father

of our Lord Jesus Christ, the

Father of all mercies and the

God of all comfort:

Who comforts us in all our

tribulation, that we may be

able to comfort them which

are in any trouble, by the

comfort wherewith we

ourselves are comforted

of God."  


~2 Corinthians 1: 3-4   



The shock stills! The coldness dumbs! The reality

blatantly unfathomable! The tragic truth of humanity's

age old bizarreness sneaked in on the historic small town

of Dunblane, Scotland, on wednesday 13 March 1996, when

a lone gunman made his way into Dunblane Primary School

and in stacatto bursts of gun fire murdered 16 five year

old kids and their teacher. 12 other kids and 2 teachers

were wounded.   



When the reality of this news dawned on me, my world

stood breathless. For fleeting seconds, I thought I

was gonna wake up from my dream and see that it was not

true. But then, I fainttingly realized that I was rather

dreaming with my eyes wide open! The evergreen garden

of the blooming respect and love I have for children

all over the world had been deeply stained by the

cold blood of humankind's death-weapon. White walls

of my yearning for a better world for our earth's children,

our tomorrow's people, crumbled into streams of tears

and blinding sorrow as death quaked its loving grounds

with a gun-man's hand. Tears rolled down my face in dry

shriek. It was, in its own manner, yet another monstrous

atrocity, blatantly unique, in mankind's march through

this troubled world.  



Remembering that two months from the 13 of March, it

would be the United Nations declared International Day

of Families - 15 May, 1996, I bitterly wept for Dunblane.

I cried for humanity!   



Then, in my deep-felt sorrow, I realized that 1995-2005

is the United Nations decade for human rights education.

The question of what rights the child has to life, liberty

and security haunted my weary being. This brought me to

the brink of accepting that in many ways, humankind have

failed our children, our hope for the nations, our future!    



This book is as a result of my soulful tears and contrite heart.

This is my loving and healing hope for Dunblane because

violence to children anywhere is violence to me personally!   



Ugonna Wachuku

Wednesday 27 March, 1996 

Loex: Bernex Commune 

Geneva, Switzerland 



Part one:   


"If I can help somebody

as I pass along, if I

can cheer somebody with

a word or song...then,

my living will not be

in vain."   


~Martin Luther King, Jr.     


at dawn:   

Victoria Clydesdale:    

at dawn, clouds began

to gather over your

little, sleepy town -

these clouds of death

defied those streams

of peace in you:   


They overlooked the

beauty of your innocent



The forgot the warmness

of your innocence.

These clouds of death

did not bother to see

the unspeakable love

in your eyes.   


Latter that morning,

these clouds brought

in more thicks of

darkness; waiting to

bring the healthy

light you've always

known to an end.   


You never knew!   


Afterwards, the rains

came from these dark



But these rains were

not form heaven's nature.

They came from one of

us - a gun man who defied

families and humanity -

a gunman who believed

you had no right to

live and be educated.   


His bullets cut you

down. Yet, we refuse

to see you die.

We refuse to end

the sweet smiles you

gave; even in our

battered memories.   


You left home with

hope and love for

a better day. But

valiant Vicky, your

day ended in tears.

Our world stood still. 


Our breath fizzled out;

while earth's streams

flowed without life.   


Our wretched world

ended with your death.

Our tears continue even

with blue clouds and

the rainy rainbow.    


Now, we dream of your

loving laughter.

We dream of your calm

screams through the

welcoming day.    


Ehen finally, we wake

up, we shall still dream

of you, Victoria because

those smiles in your

eyes will linger



















Innocent Face:


Emma Crozier:    


Your innocent face

shown around the

world stopped us

on the road to life.   


Your endless twinkle

snuffed out stars

in our skies and

brought daylight.   


Yet you were cut

down before you

could ask why?   


Beloved Emma, you

were hot to death

even in the peaceful

state of your simple

soul so calm and



Nobody seemed to care.

Humanity left you in

your innocence and



And death could not

wait to take you

away from us, Emma!

Death walked your

trusting path and

mine unknown.   


We refuse to accept

that death can take

you away. We affirm

that God will dry

your tears and ours.   


Yet our tears flow

because now we deeply

understand that you

were our sweet, little

girl of love and hope.   


The earth, with me,

weeps for you, emerald

Emma. Heaven bleeds

tormenting tearful

torrents because you

were our love, our

reason forc being.   


Beloved Emma, you

were our future.

But death did not

bother to respect

the hope and love

you symbolized for

or empty world.   


That gun of death

tracked you down

and in your own

blooming blood,

you gave up the

hope and bountiful

love within your

beautiful soul.   


How I shudder to think

about towering tears

so silent in your

dying breath and mine.   


Your utter disbelieve

at what was happening

to you and your class-



What soul do I have

to stand your pleading,

searching eyes?   


What mortal strength

do I have to bear this

shattering burden?   


Who would answer your

prying questions for

humanity, Emma?   


Your innocent face

will linger forever.

Your smiles.

Your enchanting,

little laughter!   


Emma, just remember,

you are my hero.

You were our love.

Now, you are













bells toll:


Melissa Currie:   

Now, the bells toll for

you. The bells toll to

welcome earth's herald

of your little body,



This is no wedding bell

in the country church

yard. This is no

christening ceremony...  




From my long-hand collection: 

Hope for Dunblane

Ugonna Wachuku  

(c) March 1996 

Geneva: Switzerland 


The Flower Wreath Lady


Richard Haesche

I have a little story that

I think I should bequeath,

T'was told me by a man I knew

Whose name was simply, "Keith."

"One day, while walking in the park,

Among the evergreen,

I was feeling pretty lonely

When I chanced upon a scene.

"A gray-haired lady sat there

Weaving lovely wreaths of flowers.

She'd filled a basket by her side

That must have taken hours.

"I watched her supple fingers fly

With swift, determined will,

And stared with rapt amazement

As I wondered at her skill.

"Her clothes were rather shabby

Showing patches, here and there,

But her kindly smile suggested

That she didn't seem to care.

"I guess she didn't notice

As I stood by quietly,

So I moved a little closer

Hoping she would talk with me.

"But still she didn't notice

From those eyes that seemed so kind,

When suddenly I realized

That her staring eyes were blind.

"My heart filled up with sadness

As I held my tears at bay,

She reminded me of Mother

In some long, forgotten way.

"I was just above a toddler

As we'd sailed across the sea,

And I remembered Daddy

As I bounced upon his knee.


        "Then, from somewhere deep within me,

My heart remembered well,

As the water rose around us,

And I heard my Daddy's yell.

"He passed me to a sailor

Who put me in a boat.

I remember being frightened

As we fought to stay afloat.

"They told me Dad and Mommy

Would follow us ashore,

But something whispered to me

I'd not see them anymore.

"I grew up as an orphan

With three hundred other boys.

And since my folks had left me

I missed lots of growing joys.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I was feeling pretty sad the day I wrote this poem, thinking of my Mom who had died years before...

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"Responding to My Sister"

by Jeph Johnson


my sister writes "I'm proud of you"   
despite it sounding silly
but I have lately been doing quite well
in the chaotic face of turmoil
(the chemicals won't behave)
my happiness seems contagious
in fact, she tells me to "keep it up"  
it's even making her smile
'cause she's told me all along
I am finally getting the point, she says
by evaluating my own value
appraising my situation
wearing the glasses of optimism
it somehow seems a spectacle
when pessimism unravels in the cold
I either must kick it aside
like the dead mouse on my doorstep
or thank the feline for the fun
of another new observation
I keep positively shining
and sharing the love of my family
sorry sis, I love you, too
but you're still not
getting any details
for the night belonged
to my moods and I
getting high

Author's Notes/Comments: 

circa 2001

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